Could This Be A Fake?
by smithandbarrowman
Summary: A cold and ruthless businessman, Lucius Malfoy expects the same of his son. However, when Draco enlists the help of his father's greatest rival, a game of deceit begins. But what happens when Draco no longer wants to play? (Muggle AU)
1. Chapter 1

**.**

* * *

***** PotionChemist *****

**This is for you. **

**This is for taking the time to help me when we didn't even know each other, **

**and to say thank you for not being one of those people who scare me ;)**

**What a joy this friendship has turned out to be, and what a privilege **

**it has been to find another person I collaborate so well with. **

**Enjoy your birthday, my friend.**

* * *

**Also, I got the band back together for this one. **

**coyg_81 - **the most amazing, funny, and insightful Alpha reader I have the privilege of working with.

And the pictures she makes for me are simply gorgeous xx

**LaBelladoneX- **Beta extraordinaire, who constantly reminds me that commas aren't confetti,

and whose ideas bring me back to centre when I wander off.

**And since she added some pretty words to this, she also gets a writing credit xx**

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

* * *

"Excuse me?" Draco leaned over the table, "What did you just say?"

The chatter around him became a dull buzz in his ears as his father's words sunk in. Lucius had insisted that they meet for lunch, which was unusual since all of their meetings were held in his office. His paranoia was legendary; even clients who offered lunch meetings were refuted. In Lucius' opinion, everyone was suspicious and all conversations should be held with the utmost secrecy.

It was ridiculous, of course, since the confidentiality agreements that he had everyone sign when they were employed were airtight and the threat of a lawsuit hung in the air if his rules were not followed to the letter.

But it was now perfectly clear as to why they were at a restaurant; he had chosen a public place so Draco wouldn't make a scene.

The smirk on his face was familiar — Draco had grown up looking at it every day — and he wanted to kick his father under the table as Lucius leaned back in his chair. "I said, Marcus will be promoted to CEO."

Draco gripped the edge of the table, his fingers digging into the wood with such force he was sure his fingerprints would be a permanent addition. "Marcus? This is ridiculous, Father. Why are you doing this? The entire company is mine. You have told me so since I can remember."

Lucius shook his head, his eyes casually examining his manicured hand. "There has been a change of plan."

"Change of plan!?" Draco barked, not caring that they were in public. "Are you _joking?_ I work my arse off for you and you're just going to hand the company to… to _Marcus?"_

"Why would you think I would just hand it to you?" His father's lip curled into a sneer. "You aren't worthy of it."

Draco almost choked. "_Worthy_? Worthy, Father? What the hell does that mean? I'm a Malfoy, for fuck's sake. I'm your _son."_

"You're not worthy of being my son. You're not the Malfoy I raised," Lucius looked at him with such distaste, as if his son was a complete stranger. "The company you have chosen to keep is a blight on the family name."

"The company I keep?"

"You've been keeping company with _Granger_." Lucius almost spat the name at him and slid several photos across the table.

The pictures were of Draco and Lucius' greatest competition, Hermione Granger. She was the metaphorical thorn in his father's side, the young woman who was taking the antiques world by storm.

And Lucius Malfoy hated her.

The fact that she dealt in antiquarian books — something Lucius looked down his nose at — burned him. He thought books to be irrelevant, a complete waste of time, that there was no money in them, but Draco knew better. The money she was making from first editions alone would have been enough to give his father a heart attack. And little did Lucius know that the pictures on the table were of him meeting her to make a deal for a client that Draco almost lost owing to the fact that his father refused to deal in books.

Draco picked up the photos, looking at them closely. Clearly taken with a telephoto lens — his father's paranoia almost making him laugh.

The first two pictures were from three weeks ago; one showed him entering her shop, the other of him leaving. Draco had never met with her previously, had only known of her success. And he was loathe to admit it, but he'd been nervous as hell. With absolutely no reason as it turned out.

She had been a breath of fresh air, and was delighted to assist.

The next pictures were from the previous week. She had insisted that she take him to lunch. A deal brokered together was something to be celebrated, she had said, not to be simply discussed in a stuffy office.

Raised in a world where business was not discussed outside the office, Draco had been taught that no one was to be trusted and had the fear of disloyalty drummed into him. Cut-throat ruthlessness and cunning was what he'd been taught, and it was vastly different than how she had been.

Hermione was more than happy to discuss their deal in a busy restaurant. She'd laughed and smiled, even going so far as to greet him with a hug and a kiss on his cheek. She had insisted that she pay — something that his stiff and proper upbringing would not allow — but she had told him to hush and stop being so archaic.

He smiled at the pictures, they had been two of the most entertaining and insightful business meetings he had ever experienced. So, when he met his father's face, Draco's smile widened into a grin.

"Well, Father," he began smugly, flinging the photos back across the table. "The half a million pounds I brought in last week was all thanks to that woman." He stood and buttoned his jacket. "Jeffery Carlson was chasing a book for his wife. A very expensive, very old book. And since you refuse to deal in books, and since I didn't want one of our best clients to walk away from us, I asked Hermione to help me out."

"_Hermione_?"

"Yes, _Hermione." _Draco placed his palms on the table and leaned forward. "Maybe you should stay focused on business, Father, rather than spending your time focusing on what I'm doing outside of the office."

"Outside... the… the office?" Lucius stammered, his face growing red with anger. "Are you seeing her behind my back?"

Draco's heart stuttered — _Shit, that wasn't what I meant _— but he managed to hold his composure. He smiled. "Seeing her, Father? No, I'm not just _seeing _her. It's so much more than that."

He turned and walked away, knowing that his father would be fuming. Also knowing that after all these years, he was done working for him. Stepping out into the dull afternoon and turning his collar up against the cold wind, it hit him.

What the hell had he just done?

* * *

"What the hell did you do?"

Blaise was sitting next to him at the bar. Draco hadn't returned to his office after his lunch meeting, calling his assistant to cancel his afternoon, and then calling his best mate to drown the remainder of the day with him.

Draco pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, dragging them heavily in circles. "My father is a fucking arsehole."

"You say this like it's something new," Blaise said dryly. "But that doesn't explain being in a pub with you at two o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon."

Draco dropped his hands from his face, waiting for his vision to clear before he spoke. "My father has announced that he is handing the family company to Marcus."

"He's your cousin, so technically it's still in the family."

"You're not helping." Draco nodded at the bartender, waiting for him to fill the glasses before explaining. "My _father_ has decided I'm not worthy of his company. In fact, I believe he told me I'm not worthy of being his son."

"Shit," Blaise's cursed, swallowing half his drink in one go. "What the fuck happened?"

"He had someone follow me last week. I had a meeting with Hermione Granger regarding a book for a client. A half a million pound book."

Blaise let out a low whistle. "Books are _that_ expensive?"

Draco nodded. "Apparently the rare ones are. Why Lucius won't deal in them is a mystery."

"Can he even read?" Blaise asked and Draco snorted.

"Maybe that's it," Draco chuckled and then shook his head. "I'm quitting tomorrow."

Blaise pressed his fist to his mouth, his eyes watering as he tried to swallow his drink. "Wh-what?" He spluttered.

"I can't work for him any longer," Draco shrugged. "He can disown me if he wants, I've had enough."

"He'll disown you alright." Blaise had an expression of pure shock on his face. "Are you sure this is wise?"

"Positive. I've worked my arse off for him. I make millions each year, yet he finds fault in everything I do." Draco tapped a single finger on the mahogany bar. "It all ends tomorrow."

"And the plan after tomorrow?"

"Well…" Draco scratched the back of his head, "that's the other issue."

"I'll repeat my earlier question, what the hell did you do?"

"The photos my father had, the ones of me and Granger…" Draco winced, "I may have inadvertently let my father believe there was something going on between us."

Blaise's jaw dropped. "_Ah_, is there?"

"No," Draco assured him, "but when I hand him my resignation, he'll no doubt suspect that there definitely is, and most likely have me followed."

"Does it matter?" Blaise signalled for another drink, "I mean, if you quit, you quit. She doesn't have to be involved. Unless…"

"Unless, what?" Draco deliberately avoided his friend's gaze.

"I think this woman made an impression on you." Blaise tipped his glass towards Draco and grinned. "And in only two meetings."

"No… well, yes, she definitely impressed me, but not in the way you think." Draco kept his voice even. Blaise had been his best friend since he could remember, and knew him all too well to fall for any bullshit. "She runs her business so differently from everything I've ever been taught. She smiles and laughs, she talks to people like money isn't the most important thing. And she has a shop, for Christ's sake, a shop that's like an Aladdin's cave of treasures, not a bland, sterile office. It's the world we should be living and working in, but my equally bland and sterile father believes the most important thing in business is to be cold and calculating. Clearly he's wrong."

Blaise nodded slowly. "Wow! She's made a _very_ big impression on you."

Draco groaned as his friend continued, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

"Why not? If you're quitting your job with Lucius, that opens an easy dialogue with Granger."

"Maybe, but I have no doubt Lucius will do everything in his power to let her think I'm just using her to get back at him."

Blaise hummed in agreement, and then looked thoughtfully at him. "There's an easy solution."

"And that solution is…?"

"Tell her the truth." Blaise smiled at him as if he'd just solved the question to the meaning of life. Draco rolled his eyes. "No, seriously, mate. Hear me out. Beat Lucius at his own game. Go to her, tell her you've quit because your father is an arsehole and had you followed. Tell her how much Lucius hates her, how much _you_ like her. Honesty. Try it."

"I know nothing about her," Draco shook his head. "She could be married for all I know."

"Wait." Blaise held up his hand, shaking his head slightly. "This woman is your competition and you've never Googled her?"

Draco shook his head. "We don't trade in books, so there was no need, other than to know she's someone of interest in the antiquities world."

"Lucius has obviously kept track of her though." Blaise remarked, and then grinned. "Was she wearing a ring?"

"No… ah, I mean… I don't know."

Blaise laughed, "I know you checked. You're completely smitten."

"No ring doesn't mean squat," Draco scowled. "She could have a boyfriend."

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

Draco exhaled slowly. "The truth?"

Blaise nodded. "The truth."

* * *

Draco's phone vibrated on the coffee table but he didn't even glance at it. Every few minutes for the last two hours it had been doing the same thing. His father had tried a dozen times to contact him, and Draco assumed when that didn't work, Lucius had dragged his mother into his game.

He'd stayed at the pub with Blaise until they were both significantly buzzed and then put himself into a cab. Slumping into the seat, he watched through the window as the city slowly crawled by, the pleasant buzz from the scotch dissipating with every minute that passed.

His father _was_ an arse. He always had been. Strict, unfeeling, businesslike at all times. Draco had been raised as an employee, not as a son. He couldn't remember a single time Lucius did anything with him that didn't involve antiques. He was obsessed, and it never mattered how much money was made, Lucius Malfoy always wanted more.

And Draco always assumed he wanted the same.

Despite his mother's misgivings, he went to work for his father as soon as he'd gained his business degree. Lucius had insisted that he start at the bottom — no favouritism — although Draco had proven his worth within the first few months. But now, those misgivings were coming to a head.

His mother had always tried to subtly dissuade him from following his father's footsteps and Draco never understood why. But she had been living with Lucius's paranoia for years and he now knew she didn't want him ending up the same.

But there was no real choice.

Draco knew he wouldn't be permitted to work anywhere else. The family business was where Lucius expected him to be, and had always told him that he would one day be in charge. So his father's announcement at lunch was a kick in the guts that truly hurt.

And now his mind was set. He would take great pleasure in handing his notice to his father. He even looked forward to the yelling that was sure to accompany it. Lucius would be furious, but he didn't care. The photos had been the last straw. Lucius wouldn't have even known where Draco was going, and yet, he'd had him followed. Any trust Draco had in his father was gone the second he saw those pictures.

"Arsehole," Draco announced to his empty living room.

_How dare he! _

What type of father has his own son followed and then assumes the worst? The man was beyond paranoia. He was almost psychotic.

Hermione had been the opposite. She had been more than willing to meet with him, to help him out. Her business wasn't her entire life. In fact, they'd spent barely ten minutes of their lunch discussing the book she had procured for him, instead she asked about _him._ What _he_ did for fun outside of work.

And his response had been miserable.

The realisation that he had next to no life away from work was embarrassing. That he had let his father dictate his life even more so. His life had become routine. One or two nights a week with Blaise in a pub, otherwise he was home, sifting through work files.

She hadn't seemed particularly surprised by it. But maybe she had already known him. Despite her friendly nature, he knew there was a shrewd business woman beneath the facade. There had to be for her to be making waves in the way she was.

She'd probably looked him up as soon as he contacted her, probably before that. She would know her competition, or in his case, lack of. She would most likely already know about his father and the ruthless way he went about business. She probably knew Draco was as pathetic as he was.

And how right she'd be.

"Fucking hell." He groaned and sat up from his prone position on the couch as the phone vibrated again. He reached out and picked it up. "Mother."

"Draco!" Her voice was shrill. "Thank the stars. Where have you been? We've been concerned."

Draco rolled his eyes. Concerned. Not "out of our minds with worry," just concerned.

"I'm fine, Mother," Draco said mildly. "I felt ill after lunch with Father, so I didn't return to the office." He paused. "But you probably already know that. I'm sure Father told you he had me followed."

She didn't reply immediately. He hated putting his mother in this position. She was always the mediator, stuck between them, trying to keep the peace.

When Narcissa finally spoke, she did so carefully. "Draco, darling, if you're ill, you should take a few days off, give yourself some time to… breathe."

"I plan to, Mother." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I'll be taking quite a few days off."

His mother made a humming sound, and he knew she instantly understood his meaning. He hated to tell her this way but it was what he had to do to keep her out of it.

"You do what you need to do, Draco," she said carefully. "Take care of yourself."

"And you need to do the same, Mother," he said quietly, knowing she would have to deal with his father's wrath.

"Oh, darling, I always do."

Draco pressed _end _on the phone and smiled. His father might be cunning and ruthless, but his mother was sly and shrewd, and Lucius would need to be careful or she would _quit_ too.


	2. Chapter 2

**.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

* * *

Draco had taken Blaise's advice and finally typed 'Hermione Granger' into Google.

And he had been astounded.

She was everywhere. There were pictures of her at book fairs and charity auctions, at dinner with friends, of her standing between two people he assumed were her parents — going by the proud smiles on their faces — and one picture in particular that had caused a deep throb low in his belly. It was a simple photo of her taken through a window, bent over and looking at a shelf of old books. She was dressed casually in jeans and a knitted jumper, nothing flashy or showy, and it truly showed how out of the loop he was. To have a picture like this taken, clearly with a zoom lens, meant she was someone.

He clicked away from the photos and started reading. Her kindness and generosity was well known, children's charities especially benefited, and considering the story of her life he understood why.

Placed into foster care at just eleven years old after a car accident took her parents' lives, she'd been shunted around various homes until one childless couple fell in love with her and adopted her.

Alex and Penny Masters. The name of her shop suddenly made sense. _APM Books and Collectables. _Named for the people who took her in when no one else would. And it seemed her entire purpose was to repay the kindness they had shown her.

Draco almost choked when he discovered that she donated almost half her profits to charity every year. His father was reluctant to even consider giving anything to charity. According to him, his appearances at charity functions were enough; people would turn up just to talk to him and they would donate money, therefore he didn't have to.

Draco was even more disgusted to be associated with the man. And even more so with himself. How had he not known about her? Had he been so wrapped up in his father's world that he forgot to live in the real one?

He looked at the picture of her in the book store again. What would it be like to live in a world where money wasn't the most important thing? What would it be like to enjoy your work so much that you wanted to share that joy with others?

Just looking at her pictures and reading about her life, Draco felt sure he was making the right decision.

The two meetings he'd had with her had given him such a sense of purpose. One he hadn't had in a long time. Her attitude towards business was refreshing, not the stuffy, rigid old-world transactions he was used to.

And to his surprise, he felt an instant connection with her. He liked her easy manner, liked the fact she wanted to talk about everything _but_ business.

She was naturally curious, her questions asked in a way that made him want to tell her about himself, despite his life essentially being work and sleep. And in return she had offered small things about herself. She'd started out small, her father's love of chess and his chess piece collection had been the catalyst. She had scoured weekend markets and garage sales, finding all manner of nick-nacks to sell. Her first sale had been an antique wooden duck decoy, bought at a garage sale for fifty pounds and sold for six hundred. And, in a show of what was to come, three hundred pounds were donated to the nursery school in the small town she'd grown up in.

Her life couldn't be more different from his.

And it was a life he wanted for himself.

* * *

"Is he available?"

His father's assistant looked up at him with an expression not dissimilar to the mistrustful looks Lucius usually gave him.

"Mr Malfoy is occupied."

Her tone was sour, as if his presence was an inconvenience.

"Well, best you tell him that his _son_ is here to see him and it is vitally important." Draco glared at her. He'd never hidden his dislike of the woman. Working for Lucius Malfoy would not have been pleasant but this woman seemed to revel in emulating the negativity that Lucius projected. Her sweet and kind old-lady exterior belied the condescending, nasty bitch that existed beneath. She was possibly the most hated person in the office.

When she didn't respond, Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "I am more than happy, Dolores, to stand here all day and wait. So unless you want me hovering beside your desk for the remainder of the day, I suggest that you let my father know I'm here."

Her kindly facade dropped for a split second and then she gave him her best fake smile. "I'll see if he's available."

"You do that."

Draco watched her as she picked up the phone, pressed the button to call his father, and waited. Her voice was sickly sweet when she spoke.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but _junior_ is here to see you."

"I have a name, you fucking troll," Draco spat as her eyes went wide with shock at being spoken to with such disrespect. "And after today, I'm sure it will be the only name that's talked about for weeks."

He didn't wait for her permission to enter his father's office, slamming the door behind him.

Lucius' face held an expression not unlike that of his assistant's. Harsh, unwavering. Thunderous.

"Did it not occur to you to wait until I was ready to receive you?"

Draco strode across the room and stopped in front of his father's desk. He reached into the pocket inside his jacket and withdrew an envelope, tossing it onto the desk.

"This will take less than a minute of your precious time."

"And this is...?"

"Addressed to you." Draco shoved his hands in his pockets — a stance his father hated — and nodded to the envelope. "You'd better open it."

Lucius eyed him suspiciously, reaching out and tearing the envelope open. He scanned the letter, his jaw clenching tighter as he read each line.

"You just signed your death warrant in this business."

"Death warrant, Father?" Draco huffed out a laugh. "That's a little melodramatic isn't it?"

Lucius' voice was like ice. "So you're throwing away your career, and your family, for that trollop?"

Draco slammed his hands on the desk. "Say it again. I dare you."

Lucius gaped at his son's reaction. "So it is true? You _are_ seeing her?"

"As I told you, Father, who I'm seeing outside of this office is none of your concern."

"If it directly affects my company, it is my concern." Lucius stood, but his height was no longer intimidating. Draco stood equally as tall and when their eyes met, he smirked.

"That's no longer an issue." Draco glanced at his resignation letter in his father's hand. "That's effective immediately. I no longer work here. What I do in my life is of no consequence to this company. And I'm done with _you_. I'm done with you dictating my life, telling me who I can and can't associate with. I'm done with your arrogance. Done with jumping through your hoops. Done with bringing in millions each year and it never being enough."

Lucius sneered, "I made the right decision with Marcus. His loyalty has never been a question."

"My loyalty has never been a question either. But your ridiculous paranoia has turned you into a raving lunatic."

"You'll regret this, Draco," Lucius hissed.

"The only thing I regret is giving up my life for an ungrateful piece of shit who pretends to be my father. I hope Marcus is all you've ever dreamed of in a son." Draco buttoned his jacket and turned towards the door.

"That piece of trash will ruin you."

Draco glanced back over his shoulder and grinned.

"No, Father. Hermione Granger will ruin you."

* * *

"Draco?"

He smiled at her as he moved towards the counter. She was wearing a faded _Apocalyptica t_-shirt, her crazy hair tied loosely into a knot on top of her head, and he could count at least five pencils sticking out of it.

"Hi," he said as a ridiculous wave of nerves rolled down his spine.

"Are you actually having a day off?" She leaned over the counter and looked at his attire. A well-worn _Breaking Benjamin _t-shirt, dark blue jeans with a rip in the thigh, and Etnies skate shoes. "I thought you must have slept in a suit."

"Almost," Draco laughed. "On rare occasions, I hit the pub with my best mate and he refuses to go if I'm suited up."

"I like it," she said with a nod to his chest. "Great band."

"One of my favourites."

Draco glanced around the shop. A couple were standing in the back, staring wide-eyed and pointing at the first editions behind glass. Another woman was looking at the bottom of an expensive looking Chinese porcelain vase. He winced, recognising the pattern, and his well-trained brain told him that it was at least nine thousand pounds.

His instinct was to rush over and take the vase from her, to explain that she shouldn't be rough handling it. But he tamped the feeling down; it wasn't his place.

"Did you need help with something?" Hermione asked, pulling his attention away from the woman.

"Ah, no." He scratched his temple and glanced back at the vase and the woman who was making him nervous. "Actually, yes."

Hermione laughed. "It's okay, Draco. It's insured if she breaks it."

"But that's nine grand."

"Twelve, actually," Hermione shrugged. "But she's here all the time and hasn't broken anything yet."

Draco nodded and returned his gaze to her. "I was wondering if I could talk with you for a few minutes. Something's come up, and it… _ah_… might concern you."

"Sounds ominous." She turned her attention to the woman who was making Draco nervous. "Mum? Can you watch the counter for a bit?"

Draco's heart leapt into his throat as she placed the vase down with a rough thump before walking over to them.

"Of course, darling." She smiled at Draco and she held her hand out to greet him. "Penny Masters. What do you want with my daughter?"

"Oh… ah… I just… ah," Draco stumbled. He'd not had to deal with mothers prior to now. The women he'd met were almost always from the pubs he frequented with Blaise and rarely lasted more than one night. He hadn't been interested in more. That was until now.

Penny laughed, "I'm just joking, Draco. Go, talk. I'll try not to break anything while you're gone."

Draco's mouth dropped open and Hermione snorted a laugh.

"Thanks, Mum." Hermione grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him towards the back of the shop, laughing at the stunned expression on his face.

Her office was small, tucked away in the back, and looked as though it may have been a storage closet in whatever the previous incarnation the shop might have been. It was neat and tidy, and had just enough space to accommodate a small desk and two chairs. It was where they had held their first meeting, so Draco knew what to expect. What he _hadn't_ expected was that her mother would be just outside while he had this conversation with her.

He had no clue what her reaction would be and if she did fly into a rage, would her mother follow suit?

Hermione shut the door, the amusement still evident on her face as she sat behind her desk.

"She not always here. She just pops in randomly. Dad has an appointment today so they're in the big city," she chuckled and shook her head.

But Draco's nerves only intensified; her father was around as well.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked. "You're very pale."

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine," Draco managed.

"Was Mr Carlson not happy with the book?" Her eyes widened in panic but Draco shook his head.

"Jeffrey was more than pleased with the book, thank you," he assured her. "It's just... your parents… I wasn't expecting…"

"Oh, are you going to propose?"

He almost choked and Hermione cracked up laughing.

"Draco, just tell me." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sure it's not _that_ bad."

He nodded and took a steadying breath.

"When we met... the first time... when I asked for your help and then when we had lunch—" he paused and she nodded "—my father had me followed. He had pictures taken of us and assumed that I was going behind his back to undermine him."

"But you weren't," Hermione frowned. "He doesn't deal in books."

"I know, and that's what I told him. You were simply helping."

"And this has caused an issue?"

"That…" Draco stared straight at her, "and he thinks I'm seeing you as more than a business acquaintance."

"Oh," she murmured.

"And the thing is, I didn't dispute it."

"Why not?" Her face was a mix of confusion and anger as Draco held up his hand.

"I didn't deliberately say anything. He was being his usual arrogant self and I was pissed that he had me followed. So I let him assume what he wanted and didn't correct him. It pissed him off even more just to think we were together. And when I resigned two days ago, he was furious and called you all manner of names."

Hermione gaped at him. "You quit your family's business?"

"I did," Draco nodded. "But only after my father handed it to my cousin."

"This is your _father_?"

"Yes. He's quite the delight."

"Oh, I'm aware."

"Really?" Draco was surprised at her nonchalant expression.

"Your father has tried to hinder my business in the past," she shrugged, "but I guess he didn't count on _my_ father being a solicitor and stopping his nonsense before it truly got started."

_Alex. Alexander. Alexander Masters. _

Draco let out a frustrated sigh. He should have recognised the name. His father had made an arse of himself several years ago and the name Alexander Masters had become akin to blasphemy around the offices. Hermione had clearly kept her biological parents' name so he'd never associated the pair as anything more than a solicitor and client.

"So, why are you telling me this? Do you want to use me to get back at your father?"

"No, no, not at all… I… ah… just wanted you to be aware of what transpired between us. He'll probably have you followed, looking for some way to use you to get back at me. The man has gone insane."

A small, wicked smile crept across her face. "But how much more fun would it be to get back at him? For both of us?"

"Sorry, _what_?"

"It'd be perfect. We could play up this charade. There's an auction next week we could attend together, you know, really get tongues wagging. And no doubt your father will be watching you like a hawk after that." She clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, this is so perfect."

"Wait." Draco was shaking his head, dumbfounded at her reaction. "You actually _want_ him to think we're together? Why?"

"That man tried to put me out of business," she scowled, "But, unfortunately for him, he didn't know what he was doing when he crossed me."

"Ah, okay." Draco felt like his head was spinning. He had come to tell her the truth, to apologise, to ensure she knew what was happening if one of his father's thugs dropped in on her. "I'm not sure how this will work though."

"It'll be easy," Hermione replied happily, her scowl replaced with a charming smile. "We'll start with the auction, there'll be drinks after so we can be all couple-y there, and after that—" she shrugged "—we'll just make sure we're seen together. Dinners, lunches, you can come here whenever you like."

Draco was staring at her. She made it all sound so easy. And it wasn't at all what he was thinking would happen. He had assumed she'd be pissed at him for using her to infuriate his father but, knowing she'd dealt with Lucius herself, he guessed she would do anything to get back at him. And if that meant Draco had to spend time with her, well… he wasn't at all averse to the idea.

"This is not dating, though." Hermione leaned forward on her desk, steeling him with a severe glare. "This is just a business deal. That's all."

"Of course," Draco nodded, masking his disappointment. "I was concerned you'd be pissed at me."

She shrugged again. "Honestly, I'm surprised you even thought it necessary to tell me. I mean, it was just a few photos. And I don't care what your father thinks. He'd not be stupid enough to approach me over it."

"His stupidity is debatable."

Hermione laughed. "The man truly is appalling."

Draco smiled ruefully. "I know. I've spent my entire life trying to appease him. He deserves to be knocked off his self-built pedestal."

"This is going to be so much fun." Her expression was almost giddy. "How about you meet me for lunch tomorrow? We can go over the auction and discuss just how _together_ we want people to believe we are."


	3. Chapter 3

**.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

* * *

Draco stood on the doorstep, fidgeting with his tie. He shouldn't be nervous; this wasn't a date. But no matter how many times he adjusted the stupid thing, it wouldn't sit flat.

The door opened and his jaw dropped. This wasn't the same woman he knew. Gone were the ripped jeans and t-shirt, replaced with pencil-thin trousers and a white blouse, with a neck-line that crossed low between her breasts, causing Draco to force his eyes to remain on her face. Her hair was pinned back to one side, her crazy curls tamed and falling in waves down one shoulder.

"Hi," Hermione smiled, oblivious to his staring. "What's wrong with your tie?"

"Ah… my tie?" Draco stumbled over his words. He hadn't been prepared for her to look as incredible as she did.

"Yeah. I saw you through the window. It's giving you some grief." Her fine fingers tugged gently on the silk, twisting the knot and smoothing the material into place. She smiled up at him, looking pleased with herself. "There. Now it's perfect."

"You look incredible."

She laughed, causing Draco's insides to knot tighter than his tie. "Thank you. I never know what to wear to these things. It's usually stuffy suits—" she paused and grinned "—sorry, but stuffy suits and formal gowns aren't my thing. And they frown upon jeans."

"Well, this is perfect."

She looked down at herself and then shrugged. "Not bad for a fake girlfriend."

Draco winced internally. They'd had two lunch 'dates' since she'd suggested this charade and he already hated it. He'd never believed it possible to fall so hard so quickly. And having to act, to pretend she was his, was killing him.

She was so open, ready to talk about anything and everything. She'd talked about her birth parents, their accident, her being shunted around foster homes. Her face was a picture of joy when she talked about her adoptive parents, about the values they had instilled in her. They were the reason she gave so generously, teaching her there was always someone who had less and needed help.

She should have been furious for what had happened; her life was changed dramatically because of the crash. But she wasn't bitter, only grateful that she found people who loved her as much as her birth parents had.

"Wow!" Hermione was staring at the driver standing beside the sleek black Mercedes with wide eyes. "Are you rich or something?"

"Or something." Draco pressed his hand to her back, guiding her gently towards the car. The driver opened the door and Hermione nodded her thanks. "But knowing the size of the commission you made on our book deal, I'm sure you drive something equally as pretty."

"Unless you consider the Tube pretty, then no."

"Seriously?" Draco slid into the seat beside Hermione, looking in disbelief at her. "You don't drive?"

"Nope. I'm only three stops away from work on the Tube so I've no need of a car." She glanced around at the woodgrain and leather interior, and then at his expensive suit. "Have you ever been on the Tube?"

"Not even once," Draco replied as the car pulled away from the kerb. "My father would never have allowed it."

"Your father is an arse."

"We've already established that," he agreed as they wove in and out of traffic. "And honestly, I doubt he'll even be here tonight. He usually just sends one of his minions with a list."

Hermione relaxed back into the soft leather seat and shrugged. "It's irrelevant. He doesn't actually _need_ to be there. Everyone will know by now you've parted ways with him and, when they see us together, they'll all assume why. It's no secret your father hates me."

"And I'm sorry for that." Draco took her hand and squeezed it. "His paranoia is becoming almost psychotic."

"It's a good thing you're out of there then. I'd hate for you to end up like him."

She turned to watch out the window, and Draco couldn't suppress his smile.

She didn't let go of his hand.

* * *

The car finally stopped outside Sotheby's. New Bond Street was full of cars and Draco praised himself for his forethought to hire a driver. Doormen waited on the pavement, opening doors quickly and efficiently, allowing for the minimal disruption to the flow of traffic.

This auction wasn't one of the major ones but, after viewing the listings, he knew there would be several sparks of interest on some of the items, therefore drawing a crowd.

And he already knew without asking which ones she would be chasing.

A third impression of _Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies_ which would _start_ at half a million pounds, a first complete edition of Chaucer's works — that was less expensive than he would have thought — and a signed letter written by Mary Shelly.

But the piece he knew she would covet the most was a first edition of Vincenzo Galilei's main work from the 1580s that subjected music to scientific analysis — her two favourite topics, music and science.

The first three were pieces she would be buying for clients, but the Galilei she would want for herself.

"We're here," the driver informed them as the door opened. They both quickly stepped out of the car and Draco ducked his head back inside the door.

"I'll call you when we're ready."

"Enjoy your evening, sir."

"I'm sure I will." He took Hermione's hand in his as the car pulled away, and she glanced down at their linked fingers.

"We're putting on a show, aren't we?" Draco gave her his best innocent expression and began walking them towards the door. "We have to make it believable."

"Should we kiss then?" Hermione asked, biting her lip nervously.

"Eh… wouldn't hurt," he replied, trying to remain calm.

"Now?"

"Let's wait until we're inside. The more people who see us, the more chance there is of news getting back to Lucius and him having a massive heart attack."

Hermione tugged on his hand, pulling Draco to a stop. "How believable do you want this kiss then? I mean… do we go casual like a peck on the cheek? Or the lips? Or should we go full on?"

"You mean like tongues?" He raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously.

"I mean do we want to look like we're madly in love? If that's the case, our kiss would have to be pretty believable, you know? So… I don't know… if you cupped my face… I always thought that was romantic anytime I saw it in a movie."

Draco internally groaned. If Hermione didn't stop talking this second he was going to cup her face, her breasts, her arse — anywhere he could reach — right there in the middle of New Bond Street and admit he didn't have to pretend to be in love with her anymore, that he was so _much_ in love with her he couldn't breathe.

* * *

They mingled amongst the crowd; Draco sipping scotch, Hermione champagne, their hands never parting. There were whispers and pointed looks but they ignored them all. Hermione feigned interest in a first edition Daniel Defoe, which caused even more whispers and had Draco stunned at her ability to cause a stir.

Her influence in the room was obvious. She had been watched closely as she wandered from piece to piece, the curiosity of what she might be interested in barely masked by those around her. But she gave nothing away, spending equal time with each piece, chatting easily with Draco as she did, and showing little interest in the many eyes upon her.

His father would be mad to go up against her.

Draco grinned at that thought, and asked himself again how he hadn't known more about her.

Her only stutter was when she spotted a worn and tattered title page, framed and sitting inconspicuously amongst the much more noticeable pieces. Draco bent to get a closer look. Clearly she was impressed, but he didn't recognise the title or author.

_Guarding the Dragon by P. Chemist. January 16, 1988. _

It wasn't old although the page on display looked like it had seen better days. Draco had no idea what it was about, but her piqued interest meant it was definitely something.

Hermione's eyes darted over his shoulder and she winced. Touching his arm, she smiled up at him. "Don't turn around but your father has just walked in."

"Of course he has." Draco rolled his eyes. "What are you bidding on tonight?"

She frowned, confused, and then glanced back over Draco's shoulder. "He doesn't deal in books. He wouldn't bid just to piss me off, would he? "

"He would. He's an arse, remember?"

She nodded and returned her gaze to him. "Well, since he always sends someone else and doesn't know how to play at auctions, he might be in for a surprise."

"More than one." Draco didn't think, he simply bent down and pressed his mouth to hers, internally cursing the glasses in their hands that prevented him from holding her close, or cupping her face the way she'd wanted. She flinched, slightly, but much to his relief she didn't pull away.

Her lips were soft and pliant, moving against his with a natural ease. The feeling of her mouth on his caused a warm tingle to slide down his spine, and the small sigh that sounded against his lips caused his dick to twitch.

_Not now, mate. We're in public._

Draco released her lips, smiled, then dropped his head back down once more. His second kiss was quick, just a simple brush of his mouth over hers.

"Don't look at him," Hermione murmured. "Keep your eyes on me."

"That won't be hard," Draco said softly, and smiled once more. Her face flushed and a small frown creased her brow, gone as quick as it appeared. Had he misread her sigh? Had he taken liberties in kissing her?

Her hand went to his tie, smoothing the fabric. "Sorry," she whispered. "I wasn't ready for that."

Draco's pulse slowed, but he still felt the sting of disappointment. She was smiling up at him, but that's all it was. Her eyes weren't filled with lust, she didn't look like she wanted to tear his clothes off there and then. She wasn't imagining any romantic movies; she was simply acting the part.

And the whispered voices around them said she was playing that part well.

She swiped her thumb over his lip and giggled. "This is why I don't wear makeup. You men just can't help yourselves and kiss it right off."

Draco snorted a laugh and pressed another kiss to her lips. "I'll kiss you all night, if that's what it takes. And you don't need makeup, you're beautiful as you are."

"Oh, stop." She giggled again and stepped back from him, "We're making a scene."

Draco grabbed two more drinks from a passing waiter as the auctioneer announced it was time to start. He was still astounded when all eyes were on her as they sat in the last row.

"Not up the front?" He leaned close to her ear, giving the impression — to anyone looking — of trading secrets, of new lovers whispering scandalous secrets to each other.

Hermione shook her head and mirrored his movement, her breath warm against his skin as she whispered, "I can see what's happening back here, who's bidding against me." She nodded towards the front of the room. Lucius had placed himself in the first row — front and centre would only ever be good enough for him. "He won't know who he's up against unless he turns around. And that is considered a sign of weakness. I would have thought he would know that."

"He's too arrogant to sit anywhere else."

"Well, he'll learn his place after tonight."

Draco kissed her cheek and stretched his arm across the back of her chair, his fingers caressing the nape of her neck. "I don't think he will, but it'll be entertaining nonetheless."

* * *

"What _is_ he doing?" Hermione rolled her eyes as Draco held back his laughter.

She had easily won the first three items. Lucius had attempted to outbid her on the Shakespeare but money didn't seem to be an issue for her and, in the end, the volume was hers.

But the framed title page Draco hadn't recognised was up and his father was bidding on it. Draco watched, fascinated, as Hermione lifted her paddle over and over again, raising the price until it was just the two of them left.

"Do you want to see him sweat?" she whispered.

"Of course." Draco shifted his hand and ran it along her thigh. He was going to make the most of their charade, since he was sure she would slap him for kissing her as soon as they were out of sight, despite her suggestion of doing so. He'd caught her off guard, and he wasn't sure she'd appreciate him for it.

He watched as his father raised his paddle, startled when Hermione didn't move to counter it. All eyes turned her way, waiting, but she didn't even blink. He noticed the almost imperceptible tilt of his father's head; Lucius was obviously too proud to turn completely to look at her but, nevertheless, also shocked at her lack of response.

The man had been outplayed.

There was no way he wanted that item; he was just being his usual arrogant self. But this time, it looked like it had backfired on him.

Lucius' shoulders tensed as the request went out for more bids. When none came, and the countdown began, Draco had to bite his lip to stop his laughter. Just as the auctioneer lifted the gavel in the air Hermione lifted her paddle, and a breath of tension filled the room.

Lucius didn't move; he simply shook his head when the auctioneer glanced at him. Hermione sniggered and a round of applause went up as the gavel banged onto the podium.

"Fucker," she whispered almost inaudibly and Draco squeezed her thigh. "That was mine."

"Was it that important to you? It's not that old, and it's only a title page, not the full novel."

She nodded. "It's a one off. One of those legends you hear about from time to time, but don't really believe. But this one… this one made the rounds on some kind of underground writing scene and was a hit. No one knows the actual author — they use a pseudonym — but whoever _P. Chemist_ is, their work is brilliant. I've read a few pieces so far but their grasp on the concept of greek symbolism in conjunction with human physiology is out of this world! I mean, every part of me loves this author! I wasn't missing out on that lot. Your father doesn't have a clue when it comes to bidding."

"My father doesn't have a clue about many things." Draco's hand shifted higher on her thigh, and he leaned down to kiss her. It would have looked like a simple congratulatory kiss to everyone else in the room who was looking at them but, when he pulled back, he saw the hint of lust he so desired to see in her eyes.

She stared at him for several seconds before returning her gaze forward. He left his hand on her thigh, hoping she wouldn't ask him to move it. She had one more piece to bid on, and he didn't want to distract her, but he was finding it impossible to _not_ be distracted by the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric of her trousers as he tried to focus on the auction.

The last two items sold without much fanfare. The Galilei manuscript she so desired was hers and Draco grinned throughout the bidding, watching his father's shoulders straighten and tense as she won yet another piece. He knew Lucius was fuming. His father's ego would be bruised, and it had been bruised by the sweetly fierce woman Draco was quickly becoming enamoured with.

And Draco also knew his father would have calculated the money she spent, certain Lucius would be having a near heart attack at the thought of it being spent on books and letters. He was also having trouble reconciling the expense but, after the deal he had done with her and having spent quite some time with her, he knew she would more than double that money.

"Your father's leaving," Hermione whispered. "I think he's a little embarrassed."

Draco didn't bother to look. They'd been mingling after the auction, several people immediately approaching Hermione to congratulate her. Others chose to talk with him, but it seemed the biggest question was just how long they'd been together.

And through it all, Hermione never left his side. Her hand was always on him — his hip, his lower back, his chest when she stretched to whisper in his ear. He'd been enjoying himself too much to concern himself with his father.

"Maybe we should leave too, Draco." She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him with eyes that said one thing. "We should... celebrate."

Draco knew this was all an act, but that look, her teeth digging into her lip, it was more than he could stand. He certainly wanted to leave, wanted to take her home and bite that lip for her. But he shoved the feeling away and pulled his phone from his pocket, calling their driver to pick them up.

* * *

"You don't have to walk me to my door," Hermione chuckled at Draco's chivalry, taking her hand as she stepped out of the car, escorting her the short distance to her front door.

"Well, we still have an audience," Draco indicated the car at the kerb. "And Brad will think it odd if I don't at least kiss you good night."

Hermione glanced towards the car. "I don't think Brad will care either way."

"Ah, but what if he's a secret agent working for my father?"

"I think the excitement of tonight has turned your brain to mush." She laughed, but lifted her hand to his cheek. "Well, just in case…"

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pressed up on her toes. His mouth met hers without protest, her kiss lingering and sweet. But it further grew the desperate need within him to send Brad and the car away, to spend the night kissing every inch of her skin.

He almost whined when she pulled away, her hand curving around his jaw, her thumb tracing his lips. The look was there, lust and want dancing in her eyes. He wanted to tell her he felt the same, but she stepped back.

"I'll call you, we should do lunch again." Her voice was slightly breathless, which gave him hope. "I'm sure your father will be intrigued by this turn of events."

"No doubt he will," Draco managed, his own pulse racing, but clearly their night was over.

Her lips were pink, her cheeks tinged with colour, her eyes still filled with the same desire he felt. Long moments passed between them and Draco was certain she would ask him inside.

But, instead she turned and smiled, ending their night with a simple, _Good night, Draco._

She closed the door and Draco stared at it for the longest time. He sighed a heavy exhale and retreated back down the short path to the pavement, stopping at the car and glancing back. He stared up at the window as a light switch on behind it, and he pushed the thoughts of her undressing, without him helping, from his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

* * *

"Draco, darling, this is lunch and not the Spanish Inquisition. You could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself."

Draco lifted his gaze from his lunch and gave his mother a half-hearted smile. "Sorry, Mother, my mind is elsewhere. What were you saying?"

Narcissa chuckled. "I was asking how you're doing. But I don't think you need to tell me. Don't let your father do this to you, darling. He no longer has any say in your life."

"It's not him." Draco shook his head, "Well, it's not _only_ him."

"A girl then?"

Draco's cheeks flushed. "No… yes… it's—"

"Do not say _it's complicated,_" Narcissa fixed him with a glare. "Your father is complicated. Whoever this girl is, she's not."

"We're fake dating to piss off Lucius." Draco glared right back at her.

Narcissa's jaw dropped open. "You're _what?"_

"It _is _complicated," Draco smiled at his mother's shock. "A few weeks ago, Father had me followed. He had pictures of me with Hermione and assumed the worst. It was a simple business deal and, at the time, nothing more. But when he accused me of disloyalty, I didn't deny that there was something more happening between us."

"Hermione?"

"Granger, the name we're not to mention."

"Oh." Narcissa pressed her fingers to her lips. "It _is_ complicated."

Draco huffed out a laugh. "Like I said."

"So how did the fake dating come about?"

"I went to see her. I thought she should know, especially if Lucius decided to confront her—" he gave his mother a knowing look "—and she was great about it, thought it a brilliant laugh. She's the one who came up with the fake dating idea to get back at him. She's had her own issues with him."

"So she's using you?" Narcissa's tone became firm, that of a concerned mother.

"No, not at all. Hermione's not _that_ person. She's amazing. She's kind and caring, her generosity knows no bounds. She gives away half her profits every year. She's not in the habit of using people to benefit her."

Narcissa's motherly concern turned to glee. "So, I get the feeling that this girl is more than just a fake date then."

Draco sighed, "Yeah, actually, she is."

"And what are you doing about it?"

"I'm not sure what to do. She made it clear to me it's just a business deal, but I know I saw more in her eyes when I kissed her good night."

"If you're kissing her, I think it's definitely more." Narcissa reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Darling, you need to talk to her, tell her that you want to remove the _fake_ from the dating. If she doesn't want more, then you can walk away. But, if you're seeing more in her than she is actually saying, then she also might want to take the _fake_ out of it."

"Maybe." Draco pushed the food around his plate with the fork. "And I hardly even know her."

"That's how most relationships start, Draco. It's all learning and talking and kissing," she winked, "but unless you actually talk to her, none of the rest can happen."

"Is that how it happened with you and Father?"

"Believe it or not, in the beginning your father _was_ romantic and caring, but—" Narcissa sighed "—his work consumed him. His mistrust and paranoia grew, and everything about him changed."

"But you stuck with him anyway?"

Her mouth twitched as she fought a smile. "I gave the impression of sticking with him."

Draco's fork clattered on his plate. "_What?!"_

"You quitting wasn't the only surprise your father has had in the last few weeks."

"You're leaving him?"

"No, I've _left_ him."

"How did he take it?"

"As expected." Narcissa rolled her eyes. "He was indifferent. I think he was angrier at you than me."

"He expected this?" Draco's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I don't think he _expected_ this, but in typical Lucius fashion, he assumed the worst. Only in my case, he wasn't wrong."

Draco gaped at her. "What are you saying?"

"Darling, your father has been too busy watching you to take any notice of me," Narcissa grinned at her son. "The new man in my life is much more attentive."

Draco let out a slow exhale, not sure just what to say to her.

"I've put up with that man for far too long, and it's his loss," Narcissa said. "And this new man, Charlie, he's—" she smiled, her whole face lighting up "—he's younger, he's kind... he's the man I want to kiss good night."

Draco winced, not wanting the picture of his mother kissing anyone in his head. "Younger?"

"Significantly," Narcissa said with a bright smile. "Eighteen years, to be exact." She held up her hand, instantly stopping Draco's response. "I don't want any judgement from my son who is fake dating a girl he is clearly in love with."

"In love? I'm not sure—"

"I can see it in your face." She tilted her head as she spoke in a calming voice. "Draco, if you feel even a shred of what I feel for Charlie Weasley, you need to tell this girl before she decides to _fake_ _date_ someone else."

* * *

"So he's not even contacted you?" Hermione was shaking her head, an expression of bewilderment on her face. "Is he that cold?"

"The man is an iceberg."

She laughed and Draco's heart swelled at the sound. It was light and girly, and he wanted to hear it all the time.

But…

It had been three weeks since the auction, two weeks since his mother's bombshell, and he still couldn't tell her how he felt. They'd had lunches and dinners, he'd spent time in her shop, had met both her parents there, and neither had seemed concerned when they learned who he was. In fact, they'd been the opposite of what he had expected, joining him and Hermione for lunch and regaling him with stories of the confident chatterbox who arrived on their doorstep at age eleven and stole their hearts.

He couldn't figure out what to tell her, and it was insane. After only a few weeks, he felt like he knew her better than he knew anyone. She was so open, more so than anyone he had ever known.

Even Blaise, who'd he known his entire life.

But part of his reason was he'd not seen the lust, the desire, in her eyes since the auction. She'd smiled, she'd laughed, but that glimpse he'd been given had disappeared.

And now, it was just one more excruciating dinner with her. A dinner that was once again something he wasn't accustomed to. Dinners and dates were usually formal, somewhere fancy, not in a noisy pub, dressed in jeans and t-shirts.

"Has he ever been pleasant?" Hermione asked.

"Mother says he was when they first got together, but I guess it was all downhill from there."

"Mother?"

"What about her?"

Hermione laughed. "No, I meant you call her _Mother_, not _Mum_?"

"It was what I was taught so I never thought it odd. And, it's a hard habit to break."

She nodded, her face thoughtful. "It took me a while to call Penny and Alex _Mum and Dad_, so I get it."

"And what do they think about this?" Draco asked cautiously. "About me?"

"I've not told them anything." She smiled at his confusion. "They trust my judgement, so they've not asked anything. They will be assuming I'll tell them when… _um_, if there was something to tell."

Draco's heart stopped for a beat. _When?_ Did that mean…?

"I'm sure they'll think it's hilarious," she laughed, but the pink tinge on her cheeks made him think she was more invested in this than she wanted him to believe. "And this has been fun… and I've liked getting to know the real you."

"The real me?"

"Yeah." She took a bite of a chip and pointed the remainder at him. "I'd read all about you before we met. I assumed you'd be exactly like Lucius, so I wanted to be prepared. Tell me you didn't do the same."

"I didn't," he told her. "Not immediately, anyway."

"Seriously?" She looked surprised, then her eyes narrowed. "Or had your father already painted a picture?"

"Your name was tantamount to Satan but no, I never took any more interest than that." Draco paused at her hurt expression. He hadn't meant it as an insult. "I mean, I knew of you, but didn't let my father's opinion of you cloud my judgement. And clearly he's wrong."

She ducked her head, but he didn't miss the smile his comment had caused.

"I mean, Satan is a stretch… Leviathan, maybe?"

"A powerful enemy?" Hermione grinned. "I'll take that. Do you think he's still following you?"

"I've no idea," Draco held his palms up. "And I don't really care."

"So why are you still hanging out with me?"

"I like hanging out with you," he told her. "I like talking to you. It's refreshing to have dinner with someone and not talk business."

"Good, because you're a good friend. I'd hate to lose that."

Draco smiled and nodded but inside his heart dropped. _Friend_. That was all he could expect. She clearly wanted nothing more. The lust he'd seen in her eyes _was_ just an act. His disappointment curled inside him, twisting and knotting his stomach, his appetite leaving in an instant.

He continued to smile at her, listening to her ramble on, nodding and laughing at the appropriate times.

He tried not to shut down, but it was almost impossible; he'd been friend-zoned, and there was no coming back from that.

* * *

"Are you coming in?"

Draco startled. "_Ah_, what?"

Hermione touched her hand to his chest. "Draco, this fake dating has been fun, but I know you want more. I saw the disappointment in your face when I called you my friend." She leaned up and whispered in his ear, "And I definitely want you to be more than a friend."

One second she was whispering in his ear, the next his body was against hers and her back was pushed against the door. Her breath caught and Draco stared down at her.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying—" she stretched her neck and kissed his jaw "—I want you to come inside. I want you to prove to me how much of a _friend_ you aren't."

He bent, groaning deeply, his face pressed into her neck. He breathed her in, the scent of her skin overwhelming his senses.

"Draco..."

"Say it again." His voice was muffled against her throat. "Say it again. Tell me this isn't a dream. Tell me you want more."

"Please..."

It was all he allowed. His lips moved to her jaw, her cheek, and then joined hers in a kiss that was real and raw and urgent. Hermione moaned as his tongue slid inside, the sound vibrating against his lips and pulling his own soft groan to mingle with hers.

She gripped his hair, gently tugging his head back. "Inside... Draco... please, inside."

He took the keys from her hand, his mouth still on her jaw, and reaching behind her he fumbled with the lock. She laughed — the sound pure and clear — and Draco swore, frustrated at his attempts to fit the key in the lock.

"I hope that's not a sign of things to come."

Draco growled, "I'll spank your arse for comments like that."

"Only if you get the door open."

He nipped her bottom lip before stepping back and unlocking the door. He pushed her inside, kicking the door closed, and held her against the closest wall. He bent, sucking the pulse in her neck, kissing her jaw, lifting the hem of her t-shirt to feel the smooth skin beneath.

Draco's mouth returned to hers, sucking her lips, tasting her tongue as it brushed against his. He wanted to taste her everywhere, wanted to press his teeth into her skin and leave marks on her hips, her thighs, her chest.

He stepped back momentarily, pulling her t-shirt over her head and dropping it to the floor. He unfastened her jeans while she kicked off her shoes, shoving the denim down her legs. With a flick of his fingers the clasp of her bra released and she shrugged out of it.

Her hands slid into his hair, her nails scratching his scalp. "Are we doing this here?"

"If you want to," he groaned. "I'll have you… wherever you want."

Hermione kissed him quickly, then stepped out of his arms. Taking his hand she led him up the stairs, biting her lip and smiling coyly over her shoulder.

Her bedroom was neat, sparsely decorated with a dresser and a single armchair by the window. A king-sized bed was positioned in the centre of one wall, large and inviting, and the image of her spread out on top of the covers flashed through his mind.

She moved closer to him, tugging the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. "Is it what you imagined?"

Glancing down at her chest, up her neck, to her face. "No. You are so much more than anything I could have even dared to dream."

She ran her hand down his chest, his stomach, tickling her fingers through the hair on his navel. She dragged his belt free and tugged the buttons open on his jeans. "Good answer."

Draco laughed and pulled her close, savouring the feel of her bare skin against his for the first time. "It feels like I've been thinking about this forever."

"Really?"

"That first meeting we had… I knew then." He walked her backwards to the bed, lowering her gently.

She inched back, pushing toward the headboard as Draco stood to admire her, stunned. He watched her in the dim light of the moon as it filtered in through the window. The curve of her hips, the tiny dip of her waist, her breasts, her fine collarbones, and long neck. She was perfection, on display just for him.

He shoved his jeans off and crawled over her, running the knuckle of one finger down her stomach and between her thighs, teasing over the baby-blue satin of her underwear.

"You are..." Draco exhaled a shaky breath. "_Fuck_… I want to taste you."

As if he was terrified that it would all be just a fleeting moment — a single night — he leaned down quickly and swiped his tongue across one taut nipple, then the other. Hermione sighed, her hand sliding through his hair, her back arching slightly at the feel of his mouth as he sucked the tight peak into his mouth.

"Good… so… oh!" She gasped as he bit down, grazing his teeth below the curve of her nipple.

He kissed his way down the length of her body, every inch tight and smooth under his lips. He glanced up and she was watching him, her eyes focused on his mouth as he kissed her skin.

He grinned and pulled at the elastic of her knickers with his teeth. She twitched as he released it, snapping back against her skin. "Blue is definitely your colour."

"Oh," she giggled. "I was about to tell you to take them off, but... if you like them so much..."

Draco sucked the skin on her inner thigh, pulling another gasp from her. "Maybe I'll leave them on." He sat up between her thighs, making a show of dragging his boxers down his legs. "Maybe I'll just make you watch—" he grasped his erection, sliding his hand from base to tip "—maybe I'll come all over your perfect skin."

Her own hand reached beneath the satin covering her sex. "Well, maybe I'll enjoy myself while I watch."

"Fucking hell, I think I'll just watch you."

Hermione laughed and pulled her hand away. "Take them off, Draco."

He did as requested, slowly dragging the satin down her legs, dropping it to the floor. He kicked his boxers off and stared down at her; thighs parted, her most intimate skin wet and waiting for him.

"Are you just going to stare at me?"

"Maybe." He murmured without looking up. She was incredible. Her openness, it appeared, wasn't just her public persona. It extended to everything she did. He wanted to slide inside her welcoming body, bury himself deep, and stay there. But first…

He dipped his head and opened his mouth over her wet slip of skin, groaning at the sweet taste of her, his eyes rolling closed as he sucked gently.

"Jesus… Fuck!" Her voice was a shaky cry and Draco glanced up. Her head dropped back onto the pillow as her hips arched from the bed.

He smiled, his tongue sliding over her, up one side and down the other, circling over and over as he slid two fingers inside her. A gasping cry burst from her and her hand clutched at his hair.

"Shit, Hermione," Draco murmured. "You taste like fucking sin."

He dipped down again, his tongue landing on her clit, pressing down hard as his fingers curled inside her. Tiny sounds of pleasure slipped from her lips and Draco sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing with the intensity. He pushed his fingers deeper, his eyes peering up at her as she cried out his name. Her body contracted around his fingers, and her thighs clamped tightly against his head.

With a sharp cry she came, the sound sweet and urgent, her body tensing and pushing tighter against his mouth.

Draco slowed his fingers, pulling them gently from her body. He touched his lips once more to her wet skin in a gentle kiss as she reached for him, clutching at his shoulders.

"Up here… please…" She was almost frantic in her need.

Draco dragged himself over her, the weight of his body trapping her against the mattress, and kissed her hard. He ached to be inside her, his hips ready to thrust, his body ready to give everything to her.

Her thighs slipped around his hips and she begged him once more to join their bodies. Bracing himself over her, he shifted forward, feeling her heat against the very tip of him, before finally sliding into her.

_Good, holy fuck._

Her body was tight and wet and hot, and the feel of her warm thighs against his ribs was almost too much.

"Draco," she breathed, pulling his mouth to hers. Her tongue slid between his lips, mimicking the long slide of him into her body, and her hands gripped his hair.

Draco curled his arms beneath her shoulders, his hands cupping the back of her head. "You feel fucking incredible," he whispered and started moving in slow, measured thrusts.

Their bodies were curled so closely together — closer than he thought possible — but she moved with him, tiny rolls of her hips meeting his own slow thrusts.

It was slow and intimate, more intimate than Draco had imagined. He kissed her, sucked on her tongue, and swallowed each of her sounds, wanting to keep them for himself.

The reality of her, the sweet, raspy sounds, the softness of her body around his, threatened to push him over the edge. He groaned, lifting his head to look down at her.

"You feel fucking perfect," he said between gritted teeth. "You look fucking perfect."

Her response was a breathy gasp of _more_ as her fingernails dragged down his back and dug sharply into his arse.

His body reacted, the slow rhythm stuttering and turning into something wild. He buried his face in her neck and gripped her thighs, fucking into her as hard and fast as he could. He closed his eyes, his body giving into the pure sensation that was the woman beneath him.

Hermione seized up beneath him and Draco felt her orgasm build and release. Her thighs shook, her body tightening, her hot sex clenching rhythmically around him.

Her entire body was shaking, covered in a sheen of sweat. His own skin felt hot, like electricity sparking just beneath the surface. His heart pounded inside his chest, and with a loud shout, Draco's own orgasm burst out of him, his body bucking wildly.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and Draco turned his head, bringing her mouth to his, kissing her as the aftershocks rippled through his body.

He rolled to his side, tugging her to his chest, nuzzling her hair. She sighed, her body warm and limp, her eyes drooping shut.

"Okay?" Draco whispered and she nodded against his chest. "Not bad for a fake boyfriend then?"

She smiled and forced her eyes open. "There was nothing fake about that."

* * *

"So, we're doing this then?"

They'd been quietly basking in the post-orgasmic afterglow of what they both silently knew was the best sex either had experienced.

"Hmm," Hermione hummed sleepily. "Doing what?"

His hand travelled from her shoulder to her hip, her naked skin smooth and warm.

"Doing the real dating, not the charade?"

Hermione tilted her head to look up at him. "We're really doing this."

"Officially?"

"Officially." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "There'll be proper dates and _real_ public displays of affection. I might even introduce you as my boyfriend."

"I do like the sound of that." He curled his hand around her jaw and she turned into his touch. "Boyfriend."

"Boyfriend." She smiled, wrapping her arm tightly across his chest and burrowing into his side. "And just so you know, it was never fake for me."


End file.
